Two Halves
by KricketWilliams
Summary: On the eve of his best friend's wedding, Morgan finds he has much to consider about his other half. As usual, I don't own a thing
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_AN: Hello, everyone! Here is some requested angst, I hope you enjoy..._

It was bitterly cold for October, far colder than he ever remembered it being. The chill permeated his entire being down deep into his bones, and yet being outside far surpassed having to be inside.

The groom's dinner was going off without a hitch inside the home of Belva and Patrick Lynch, celebrating their son's wedding to Derek's best friend tomorrow. They were marrying on Columbus Day, a holiday that held little significance to Derek before, except maybe a set day off of work.

Now it was going to go down in history as the worst day of his life.

"We are proud that Kevin Archibald Lynch..." Patrick had blustered less than an hour ago in front of everyone at the dinner.

"_Archibald_?" Prentiss had commented out of the side of her mouth to him in a wise-cracking fashion, obvious humor barely hidden.

Derek hadn't even cracked a smile.

"...a true American, is marrying his beautiful bride, Penelope, on one of the most patriotic and remarkable days of the year."

Penelope had blushed, her fair cheeks blooming with color, as she smiled over at the man she was going to marry. Lynch had picked up her hand and kissed her fingers.

Derek knew how soft those fingers were, how they felt under his lips...

"Traditionally, Columbus Day was considered patriotic," Reid had whispered from his other side. "However, recent historical data suggests that Columbus—"

"Reid, can it," Derek had snapped. "I don't want to hear it now."

Reid had blinked at him, and then swallowed. "All right...Morgan, are you okay?"

The concerned look on Reid's face had been his undoing and had caused him to be where he was now. He had excused himself and hurried out the door, not ready to face what was really happening.

He felt like the world was closing in on him. He'd waited too long. He'd waited, like a fool, for something, anything...nothing...and he'd waited too long.

Why had he done it?

He knew he was in love with her. He honestly believed it had been love at first sight. When he'd seen her, called her Baby Girl, and she'd accepted it, had relished in it, he'd known he'd found his other half.

At first, he'd been foolish, teasing with her, thinking what he was feeling wasn't possibly right. How could it have been? He wasn't looking for love—he didn't _want_ to fall in love. He'd been thirty-two, ready to sow more oats and break more hearts. It wasn't his time...it couldn't have been his time.

Then they'd fought, and he'd realized then how very much he'd taken her for granted. He hadn't let her know how precious she'd been to him, or how much he'd truly cared. On the phone, she'd said that she didn't think he'd cross a crowded bar for her...

He'd walk through the gates of hell for her now.

When she got shot, he'd known how fragile life was and how he needed to tell her. He had...and he'd botched it terribly. He'd said it like a question—"_I__ love __you. You__ know that, __right?"—_instead of telling her straight out, taking her into his arms and never letting her go.

Two days later, she'd met the man she was going to marry someday...One smart enough to tell her exactly how he felt about her.

And in turn, Derek had lost everything he'd ever wanted.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't go in that church tomorrow and watch her marry another man. He was done waiting. He had to tell her.

"Derek."

He turned to see Penelope standing there. She looked beautiful, highlighted by the porch light at the Lynch's home. Her warm blonde hair was blowing in the wind; she brought her hand up to brush away a few stray tendrils.

"Baby," he said hoarsely, filled with emotion.

It was then he noticed she held his jacket in her other hand. "I thought you might be cold," she said, handing it to him. "It's unseasonably chilly this weekend."

"Thank you," he answered flatly.

She looked up at the sky, watching the rapidly moving clouds over the already darkened background. She grinned crookedly at him. "Nice weather for a wedding, huh?"

He laughed just slightly, forcing an answer. "Yeah."

"I'm so excited!" she squealed, giggling.

He couldn't answer that one. His throat constricted, inhibiting his speech.

She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her hands on her arms. "Well, I suppose—"

"Penelope," he began, reaching for her arm.

She cocked her head to the side, looked at him with gentle curiosity. "What, Hot Stuff?"

_Stay with me! Don't go! Don't marry him...Oh, please, sweet Baby Girl, don't marry him_, he wanted to scream. _I need you. I'm only whole when I am with you...and I will always love you more than he ever will._

But as he watched her, watched the look on her face, so tender, so trusting, so happy...he felt his heart seize, and the words he longed to say froze on his tongue. He couldn't do this to her. He was too late. He'd waited too long.

"Nothing, baby," he murmured, pulling her into his embrace. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent—warm vanilla and pears—and swallowed hard. "I hope he makes you happy."

"He does," she answered back, resting her face on his chest. Then she looked up at him, teasing gently, "Of course, you will always have half of my heart."

"Like you have half of mine," he whispered. He cupped her face in his hands, one last time, and leaned down to kiss her lips, if only just fleetingly. He'd never done that before, but he couldn't stop himself. Tomorrow, she would be a married woman and totally off limits. He was many things, but he was not an adulterer.

She gave him a pensive, wistful smile, one that made his heart beat just a smidgen faster, and then she patted his cheek.

"Goodnight, Derek."

"Goodnight, P."

He watched her walk back into the house, his chest aching as he realized something...

Two halves do not always make a whole.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_AN: Thanks for all the reviews; I really appreciate it...On to the next segment..._

Derek smelled the faint hint of cigar before he heard the words from a familiar voice, "You know...I could really kick your ass some days."

He turned to see David Rossi, clad in his suit and leather jacket, come out of the shadows. Dave tossed aside a still burning cigar and glared at Derek. From the look on his face, he meant what he'd just said.

Derek sighed. Great. Rossi was in speech mode. For some reason, Dave chose to lecture him an awful lot. Derek usually avoided this like the plague, if he had the opportunity.

"Since when do you smoke?" Morgan asked, trying to evade the questions he knew were coming.

"Every time someone I love is getting married or having a kid. It's a celebration thing," he explained, as if the answer were obvious. He was still shooting daggers at Morgan, making Derek feel really uncomfortable. "I snuck out with Hotch and Reid, and we all had the great misfortune of witnessing that pathetic little scene."

Derek could feel the blood run from his cheeks, which were already numb from the cold. "You all watched?"

"Yep," he answered, putting his hands in his pockets. He rolled back on his heels, and then said, "Just like a bad soap opera."

Derek usually let Rossi's snide and snarky comments roll off of him like a duck with water—it was part of the other man's nature—but tonight, he'd been pushed enough.

"You know what, Rossi?" he snarled. "Why don't _you_ mind your own business for once and leave me the fuck alone?"

"Okay," Dave said, shrugging, taking a step back and holding up both of his hands. As Derek looked out into the blackness over the yard, he heard, "Sounds like that _is_ what you want, since you are rolling over and giving up..."

Morgan turned to face Rossi, his face scrunched up in anger. "What are you talking about?"

"You didn't tell her," he said flatly. "You stood there—your heart in your eyes, your gut on fire, your chest heaving internally..._every fiber in your being_ wanting her—and you didn't tell her."

He could feel his mouth compress to a thin line. There was bitter, horrible truth to what Rossi was saying, as if the other man had crawled into his soul and knew what was written there, but Derek would be damned if he'd ever let Rossi know. This was none of his business; he didn't understand the depth of Derek and Penelope's relationship.

"She's happy," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm not going to disrupt her happiness."

Dave cocked his head in question. "How would you know? You didn't give her a chance to weigh the options that she had."

Derek shot the other man an incredulous look. "I saw the look on her face, Rossi, and she told me how happy she was."

"And so you, sacrificing yourself like a martyr, just let her be."

The narrowed eyed glance from Rossi told Derek he didn't need to answer. He already knew.

Rossi shook his head in disgust, and then turned to look out over the field where the Lynch's house sat. Under his breath, he muttered two words.

"Chicken shit."

That did it. He'd had it. Derek rounded on him, fists up, ready to take him out, friend or no friend."You mother—"

"Want to know how I know?" Rossi asked flatly, not bothering to turn to look at him.

He paused for a second, three feet away, fists up still. _Damn_ that Rossi! He did that so well, stopping him in his tracks and making him think when he didn't want to. He needed to throw a punch, a hard one, and now...he wanted to know.

He huffed. "How?"

"Because I've _been_ there, Derek," he began, turning to look at Morgan. "I married three women who were in some way or another wrong for me, because I never found anyone who came close to her. The ones that were anywhere near her type seemed like bad prototypes and only soured my memory, so I tried the ones that were so different, they were the anti-Emma."

Derek's fists slowly lowered. He'd done that for years. Dated the anti-Penelope's, because he couldn't have the real thing. He swallowed. "That's not the same. She's happy, and—"

"She was set to marry him. He was a rich lawyer, on the move; everyone knew he'd be a judge. He came from good family, and he loved the hell out of her." Rossi chuckled, but it was a flat sound. "Not anywhere near as much as me, mind you, but he did love her. She was my best friend, the most outstanding woman I'd ever known. Her heart was pure, with an unending capacity to care and love...

He cocked a brow at Derek. "Sound like anyone we know?"

Derek wisely didn't say a word.

"We never dated. She said we were bound to pass like ships in the night, star-crossed, but never lovers. She was my ideal, and because I thought she wanted him, I let her have him," he said, and then shook his head sadly. "I lied to myself. The truth was, I was afraid. I was afraid she wouldn't respond the way I wanted her to, I was afraid she really did want him the most, and I was afraid she'd be angry at me."

He paused, and then looked away from Derek. "But what was I afraid of the most? I was afraid that she didn't love me like I loved her."

"Damn, Rossi," he said, his chest aching again with that dull burn he'd had most of this evening.

"I found out years later from a mutual friend that she loved me, that she'd always loved me," he said, looking back at Derek. "I never gave her the chance to decide between him or me; I made that decision for her, because I was too afraid to tell her the truth.

"Question is," he began, as he clapped his hands on Derek's arms and met his eyes, "are you going to be that stupid? Or are you going to take a chance and learn from someone who's been there?"

Derek gave a slight laugh, knowing he could possibly owe Rossi his life...if he was correct. Nothing he could say would ever repay him for this.

"Thanks, man," he said, finding any other words insignificant.

Rossi dropped his hands and gave him a curt nod. "Don't mention it."

They took a few steps, before Derek decided spoke again.

"_Reid_ had a cigar?"

Rossi chuckled. "Yes, he did. Italian tobacco. You missed out, my friend."

Derek shook his head, knowing any moment he had with Penelope was worth more than any gourmand treat. He said what was in his heart.

"No, I didn't."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews and for staying with this story..._

Derek stood on the front porch of the Jareau/LaMontange residence. He knew she was in there: Penelope, the love of his life, his destiny. An almost too helpful—and slightly tipsy—Emily Prentiss had spilled the beans and said Penelope was sweetly old fashioned and believed in spending the night away from her fiancé before the wedding.

She'd even winked after telling him, proving to him that he was far more transparent about his feelings than he liked to think he was.

His hands were shaking, and he was breaking a sweat, even though it was even colder now than it had been at eight pm. Derek was usually soundly in control of his nerves, so this wasn't a familiar or pleasant feeling at all. All of what Rossi had said rolled over him, eliciting equal amounts of excitement and fear.

He couldn't wait all night; it was time to face his destiny, no matter what it entailed.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and rapped soundly on JJ's door. He only had to wait a moment before the door was opened.

JJ stood there, one arm holding Henry, the other still holding the doorknob. She didn't say a word; she just stared at him, a suspicious gleam in her eye, like she was debating whether or not to let him in.

He only said one word to her.

"Please."

The suspicious glare remained for a moment as she scoped him out, and then it was replaced by a wry smile, along with a look that had more than a little sympathy attached to it.

She stepped aside. "Come in. Your timing really sucks, Morgan…but come in anyway."

After he entered, he began to unzip his jacket, but stopped when JJ spoke. It didn't matter; he wouldn't have been able to get comfortable anyway.

"She's in the first room at the top of the staircase, right hand side."

"Thank you," he said, turning to head to the stairs.

"Derek."

He glanced back at her.

She smiled. "Don't make me regret this."

It was only then that Derek realized she was on his side, too. As if someone could pick sides in a situation like this.

He grinned back at her hopefully. "I won't."

* * *

><p>Penelope sat on the twin bed that would someday be Henry La Montange's, twisting her simple circular diamond ring on her finger. It was strange…she was used to wearing a lot of jewelry, but this one felt heavy and foreign on her finger. It was light, a small diamond, and yet it marked her like a brand.<p>

"I love him," she murmured, looking at her ring, thinking of the day he'd proposed, the happy look on Kevin's face when he'd given it to her.

Cursing herself for being a fool, she stood and paced the room for the twelfth time since she'd retired that night at JJ's house. Kevin loved her; she loved him. They'd be happy together. They'd been happy for over three years running. There was no reason to have cold feet or be pensive now. She was getting what she'd always wanted—a husband, a family to call her own.

Closing her eyes, her thoughts immediately went back to that moment when Derek's lips had touched hers. In all the times that he had kissed her—on her head, her cheek, her hands—he'd never ventured to her lips. Now, the night before her wedding, he'd kissed her there.

It could barely be called a kiss; he'd simply brushed his lips with hers. But in that brief contact, Penelope's world had tipped. Her breath had caught in her throat, her heartbeat had altered, her skin had tingled. She'd felt more alive than she ever had in her entire life.

And she was going to marry another man in fifteen hours.

"I love him," she said, opening her eyes, looking in the mirror above the dresser. "I _love_ him. I'm going to be happy with him. I love him."

She knew she sounded like she was trying to convince herself, and her stomach flipped at the implication of that.

A soft knock on the door gratefully interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she answered, and then gasped when she saw who it was. "Derek, what are you doing here?"

"Baby Girl, we need to talk."

"Now?" she asked, looking confused. She glanced at the clock, and then back at him. "It's kinda late, Hot Stuff, dontcha think?"

"God, I hope not," he muttered as he shut the door. He took a few steps closer to her, reaching for her hands, before taking a seat on the bed and giving her an encouraging tug to sit next to him.

She'd never seen Derek look that obviously nervous in her life. "Derek…what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered quickly, and then he sighed. "Everything."

He squeezed her hand he still held tighter. It was a touch sweaty, a little cold to her touch. She held it between both of hers, trying to offer him some comfort.

"Which one is it, Baby Boy?"

"Penelope…I haven't been honest with you," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "I've always been truthful with you our entire relationship, and tonight…I wasn't."

Her heart started to ache in her chest, and a sinking feeling, one that told her that this would alter her entire life, took hold. "Okay…"

"Penelope, I know you love him, and I know he makes you happy," he uttered, his words coming out quickly. "I was willing to let that be the deciding factor for me, letting that keep me quiet."

He took both of her hands in his now, his thumbs rubbing the backs like he'd done so many times before. She was watching those rhythmic, soothing strokes, trying to keep her pulse in check.

"Baby, I don't want to hurt you for the world."

"I know, D."

She raised her eyes to meet his, and as she locked her gaze with his, she could feel him reaching deep into her soul, further than she'd even dared to delve.

"Penelope…I love you," he whispered fiercely. "I will always love you more than any other man out there."

Her heart completely stopped. She wondered how she could stay seated; she should've fallen over on the floor.

"I told you that you had half my heart…well, that was the lie," he added, squeezing her hands again. "You've had all of it, woman, for nearly as long as I have known you."

"Derek—"

He interrupted. "I know my timing is for shit, and I should've worked up the courage to say something a long time before this."

She tugged her hands out of his to wipe the tears rolling down her face. "You're telling me," she quipped, unable to keep out the sarcasm in her voice.

"I'm so sorry," he said, the passion and anguish written clearly on his face echoing what she felt perfectly. "I don't want to hurt you; I don't want to ruin the best friendship I have ever had in my life...but I had to tell you. I hope you understand."

She couldn't say a word, she was in such shock. She tried to say something, but she couldn't. Her heart pounded, her chest ached, and her mind whirled with a thousand thoughts and feelings.

They sat, side by side, saying nothing, before he sighed heavily, hung his head, and then stood.

"I said it...if only once." His dark eyes were shiny wet; oddly, she recalled that she'd never seen him cry before. He looked away and murmured huskily, "I thought that you deserved to know."

He took a step toward the door.

"Oh no, you don't, Derek Morgan!" she cried, the fire in her belly bursting forward. "You had your say, mister! Now it's _my_ turn."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_AN: Thank you for all the reviews! Here comes the final chapter (I think). Does this need a big kiss or an epilogue? I'll let you decide..._

She shot up off of the bed, her eyes blazing and her cheeks pink with hot anger as she stared him down. She looked mad as hell…and gorgeous. He couldn't help but think she looked beautiful, even though she was about to chew his ass.

If that wasn't love, what was?

"Derek Morgan, you have the worst timing out of any man that ever lived!" she snapped at him. "You come waltzing in here, less than twenty hours from my wedding day, and declare feelings for me."

"I know—"

"Who said you could talk?" she growled, giving him the hairy eyeball.

He wisely took that question as rhetorical.

She nodded, her full lips compressed into a thin line. "For years—not days, months, but years!—we have been closer than any two people on this Earth, sharing every intimate moment…"

_Not every intimate moment_, he thought wryly.

Whatever expression he had to accompany his thought must've shown on his face, because she paused and glared at him.

"I didn't say a thing!" he replied, wide eyed.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You _looked_ like you were going to say something!"

He sat on the bed, duly chastised, like a puppy that had gone potty on the floor. "Sorry."

Putting her hands on her hips, she continued to glare at him. "In all the time we spent together, every movie night, every vacation…slept in the same bed, like we did in Alaska, you couldn't find a moment to tell me?"

She was right. There was nothing he could say to defend himself. There were a thousand moments he could've talked—he should've talked—and he'd kept quiet, instead.

"I know, and I am sorry," he said.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Derek!" Her eyes filled with tears, and she took a few steps away from him, as if that would lessen her pain.

"I _trusted_ you," she said, and then laughed self-depreciatingly. "I know that is no big deal, foolish trusting me, compared to you, who doesn't trust anybody."

"That's a lie," he said fiercely.

She paused for a second. "What?"

"What you just said; it's a lie," he said, his deep voice hoarse with emotion. "Having your trust is a huge deal to me, more important to me than my own life."

She scoffed. "Yeah, right."

He shrugged. "I deserved that...I can take it." He paused, met her gaze earnestly. "It's true, but you might not believe it. I have to live with that."

She raised her chin and looked away from him.

"Sweetheart, the other part is just not true, either." He wished she could see his heart, could see what he felt in his soul. "There is no one else on Earth that I trust implicitly. Only you. Always you."

She still looked angry, but some of the steam must've left her, because she was no longer shouting. "Why, Derek? You could've talked to me about anything. Why did you wait until now?"

This time, when he looked into her deep blue eyes, he saw all the pain he'd caused her, and the spot where his heart should've been ached even more.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he whispered softly, as he felt the sting of tears in his nose, the back of his throat. "That is my excuse, miserable though it is."

She didn't say a word, but the tears were flowing down her cheeks now. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. "Stupid."

"I know," he said, wanting badly to brush those tears away, like he'd always done. "Y-You seemed so happy with him, P. So happy. He didn't deserve you. I still don't think he deserves you, but…"

That hurt look, knowing he'd caused it, was too much for him to bear. He died a little bit inside, knowing he'd hurt her that badly.

He swallowed hard and sighed, closing his eyes. He'd been damned wrong, and he needed to end this.

He rose to his feet, stood next to her. "I told you I would protect you, every day of my life, but I was wrong again. I couldn't protect you from myself. I never should've come here like this, and I am so sorry."

His hands ached to cup her face, to make her understand that he loved her so much, this was killing him. He wasn't doing this for his own comfort; he didn't deserve comfort anyway.

"If I could…" he said brokenly, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I would take back every word, P, if I could."

She looked up at that and frowned. "You'd go through life, never letting me know you loved me?"

"Yes."

At first, an incredulous look crossed her face, and then that mad as hell look returned full force. "Go. Get out. Now."

He was shocked. "Penelope—"

"Now. You need to go. Get," she said, giving him a shove.

That shocked him. It was so unlike her to be physical, but she was shoving him with all her might.

"You'd better leave...before I borrow your gun and shoot you!"

"Baby—"

"Don't you _Baby_ me, you…you…chicken!" she snapped, sniffling back tears. "You supposedly love me enough to end my wedding to Kevin, and you never would've _told_ me?"

"End your wedding?"

"Yes, damn it!" she cried. "How could you do this to me, Derek? You tell me you love me, and then tell me you wouldn't have told me if you had it to do over again! What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Sweetheart," he began, but she didn't let him finish.

"Am I not worth the fight?" she asked, that look of anger and distress warring for dominance. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

She gave him another shove, her full lips pouting now.

He wasn't about to leave, and words were inane and inadequate. So, instead, he did the best thing he could think of; he wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against his chest, holding her close, as still as he possibly could.

And meanwhile, his heart absolutely soared.

She stayed put, crying against his chest, seeking his comfort instinctively, like he sought hers. They stood there, holding each other so tightly a paperclip could't squeeze between them.

Then, cupping her face in his hands, he tilted her chin to look at him and said, "Penelope…am I worth the fight?"

When she locked gazes with him, this time, he knew she was giving him the other part of her heart, melding the two halves together, for good.

For safe keeping.

Forever.

"Yes," she answered, and then laughed slightly. "Sometimes I wonder...but yes."

"I love you," he whispered again, resting his forehead on hers.

"I love you, too," she whispered back.

And this time when their lips met, it was much, much more than just a brief touch.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_AN: Thank you so much for reading this story...Hope I am not bombarding you with chapters today!...Here's the kiss/epilogue!_

When Derek began kissing her, it was gentle, light, just the slightest brushing of angel's wings from the sweetest lips she'd ever known, and yet the building feeling of anticipation, the electric heat, was almost more than she could bear. She still had her arms wrapped around his lean waist, her hands resting on the strong surface of his back. She could feel the unsteady rise and fall of his ribcage, showing her exactly how affected he was, too, by the kisses.

They traded those soft kisses, each one a little stronger, a little longer than the one before. Her eyelids felt heavy; she felt almost drunk from the heady pleasure of his intoxicating kisses.

He lifted his mouth just slightly from hers and whispered huskily against her mouth, "Are you ready, Baby Girl? Tell me you're ready..."

As her eyelids fluttered open, her gaze was hazy, as if her glasses weren't working. Her vocal chords were malfunctioning, too; she couldn't speak. Instead, she answered him with just the slightest smile and closed her eyes again.

Was she ready for this? Hells, yes.

The moment her eyes were closed, he fitted his mouth over hers and began to truly kiss her, like she'd never been kissed before. Hot, smoldering heat burst into flames that threatened to consume her. Her hands were no longer resting; instead, they were clutching his back, pulling him closer to her, trying for more contact.

On and on, he kissed her, like there was no tomorrow, no time to ever kiss again. He kissed her like she was his everything, the only thing he'd ever needed, the only thing he had to know. A deep growl rumbled under her fingers, a sound that seemed to emanate from Derek's soul, showing how much he'd wanted her. It was powerful, it was humbling, having the knowledge of his want.

He made dark, sexy penetrations with his tongue, sweeping in her mouth, tantalizing her, bringing that boozy feeling of drunkenness even closer. She was moaning, too, and she felt on fire. The flame was no longer threatening; it had consumed her, and she'd willingly poured gasoline on the fire.

This was no regular kiss...this was heaven, almost otherworldly. This was what it was like to kiss one's soul mate. He kissed with total mastery, in complete control; all she could do was hold on and enjoy the ride.

And what a ride it was!

Slowly, he began kissing his way across her cheek, to the soft place under her earlobe. She'd let her head fall backward, baring her neck, encouraging more kisses.

"I've got to have you," he growled against her throat.

"Yes," she whispered back, bringing her hands up to clutch his head, bring his mouth back to hers.

Derek gripped her bottom and lifted her slightly to get closer contact as his mouth pillaged hers. She wrapped her leg around him, unable to get close enough, and began tugging at his shirt.

It was then she heard a loud, "Ahem!"

Penelope pulled her mouth away from Derek's, as he lifted his head, glared darkly at the door, and snarled, "What?"

Garcia finally came to her senses to remember where she was—or even who she was! She looked over at both JJ and Will standing there. JJ's cheeks were slightly pinked, and both of them looked highly amused.

"We...ah...didn't hear the shouting anymore," JJ began.

"Figured we needed to investigate," Will drawled, and then shrugged. "With our combined law enforcement efforts, we determined one of you was on the floor unconscious...or this was happening. Either way, we needed to put a stop to it."

"We did," JJ added, leaning closer to Will, looking very pleased.

Penelope wiped her kiss bruised mouth. "We...got a little carried away."

JJ laughed. "I should say so!" She smiled over at Derek. "Things okay now?"

He squeezed Penelope. "They are."

"I'm glad," JJ said, still smiling, "but you still can't spend the night in Henry's twin bed with her."

Derek laughed. "I'll go."

"That's probably for the better." Penelope smiled, a soft smile filled with promise. "I have a lot I need to do."

He smiled softly at Penelope. "See you tomorrow?"

"And the next day and the next day and the next times infinity," she said, before standing on her tiptoes to kiss his lips, one of the many kisses she would have with him in their happily ever after.


End file.
